Chapter 1

  The rain did not fall It slammed into the earth The storm washed over the worn stone slabs of the Shaolin discipline courtyard

  Leo is American. woke up with his bones feeling like they had been taken apart and forced back together Thunder roared in his ears

  The memory of metal and impact still rang inside his skull He tried to push himself up He tried to curse the driver in the dirtiest Brooklyn English he knew

  But he did not see a New York street He saw a circle of shaved headed monks holding clubs Fear and killing intent twisted their faces

  Torches shook in the wind and rain Firelight painted his soaked blond hair It caught the deep blue of his eyes

  To them it looked like a demon had crawled out of hell Someone screamed that he was a Rakshasa ghost More voices joined the howl

  No one waited for him to say a single word Clubs came down like rain They crushed him into mud and black water

  His screams meant nothing to them To their ears it was only the roar of a monster The master of the discipline hall stepped through the crowd

  His name was Xuanji His face was hollow with age His eyes were harder than iron

  He raised a cloth soled monk shoe He brought it down on Leos left shin Bone snapped with a sound that cut through the storm

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  Leos scream tore into the night No pity answered it Xuanji lifted his foot like he had stepped on an insect

  He ordered them to throw the Rakshasa into the back kitchen He told them to make him the lowest kind of servant He told them to let him live or die on his own

  They dragged Leo like a dead dog They tossed him into a wood shed that stank of mold and old smoke He had barely caught a breath when the kitchen steward came in

  Zhu the manager wore a grin full of malice He wanted favor from the powerful monks He dumped a basin of rancid leftovers into a filthy dog bowl

  He kicked it to Leos face He forced Leo to eat like an animal Leo stared at the mans ugly mouth

  Pain from his shattered leg tried to drown him But he knew the truth If he did not eat he would die

  Night deepened Wind poured through the cracks in the shed Cold sank into his skin

  Leo curled into a pile of straw Pain sawed back and forth through his nerves His mind started to slip away

  Then a familiar emotionless electronic voice exploded inside his head It said the hosts life signs were abnormal It said the karmic insulated bag had been forced open

  No holy light appeared Only the raw sound of a nylon zipper tearing open Leo froze

  In that ancient shed filled with incense ash and rot A red square outline appeared in the air It was the delivery bag he knew better than his own hands

  He reached into empty space His fingers touched cold foil and hard plastic He pulled out a bottle of extra strength ibuprofen liquid

  He pulled out a roll of silver industrial strength tape The modern weight of them steadied his breathing The fear in his eyes began to drain away

  He twisted the cap off He swallowed half the bottle without stopping He bit the tape and ripped it open

  He built a crude brace around the broken bone It was ugly It was solid

  The medicine took hold The edge of pain backed away A new calm filled his skull

  Leo leaned against the wall and breathed This was not some mystical rebirth This was just the worst delivery route of his life

  In this absurd world cultivation was a job Survival was an order that had to be completed The men who broke his leg and fed him dog food were not untouchable

  They were obstacles in the lane They were roadblocks that could be removed Leos blue eyes turned cold and clear

  Like glacier light on a hunters sight